Love Note
by The Hoopla Bones
Summary: Hermione's got her first love note ever-but Parvati Patil finds out. She makes a deal with Hermione-help her find the note's author, or have the note shown to everyone. Does Hermione accept? Will she find the note's author? It won't be who you think.
1. A Proposition

**Love Note**

It began with a note. The simplest of notes, arriving during breakfast on Valentine's Day, borne by a school owl. It was anonymous.

Hermione slipped it inside her bag to look at later. First class was Arithmancy and she couldn't be late. She hoped neither Ron nor Harry had noticed the note. She never received Valentine notes. Ron would find it exciting and infuriating and she knew that he would be jealous. That was Ron. It would probably result in another argument. Ron would cause a lot more fuss than she wanted to have made, Hermione knew, and anyway, who cared? It was only a note. Not a marriage proposal. She didn't even know whom it was from.

Still, when she was getting ready for bed in the evening, she saw it poking out of her schoolbag and she unconsciously picked it up and tucked it under her pillow. As she slid between the sheets and heard Lavender Brown turn off the light, she reached one hand up to the note.

Her wand lay on her nightstand. She pulled it under the sheets and whispered, "Lumos." She felt a sort of a thrill as light flared from her wand and she unfolded the scrap of paper. She didn't know why she was so excited over a little Valentine. She was feeling rather crazy this evening. Well, she could read a Valentine's note if she wanted to, right? It was her choice. Hermione was usually so uptight. She _knew_ she was uptight. Tonight, though, she wanted a little tasted of freedom. She read the note.

_Dear Hermione,_

_You don't know who I am, and I'm not about to tell you (embarrassment for all involved), but I wanted to tell you that I love you. And to have a Happy Valentine's Day._

_Sincerely,_

_An admirer_

"Oh…" Hermione whispered weakly and re-read the note. _Love. _That was quite strong, wasn't it, for someone who was probably seventeen or maybe younger? Almost against her will, she fervently hoped whoever it was would have the courage to tell her who they were. _Love. _Hermione didn't think she had ever been in love. She loved her parents, of course, and Harry and Ron, but she'd never been _in love_. Hermione didn't think she'd ever really experienced romance. Having Viktor adore her the way he obviously did was lovely, but she didn't really feel anything for him except friendship. And that was a problem; sometime soon, she should write him and tell him the truth…

Cold air draped itself over her neck and shoulders. Hermione, horrified, turned to find Parvati Patil holding the blankets she had just yanked off her head.

"What're you reading, Hermione?" she asked, giggling maliciously, looking at the note Hermione still clutched in her left hand. Parvati reached out and pulled it from her unwilling fingers.

"No! Hey, that's mine!" Hermione stuttered, but Parvati was already hungrily reading the slip of parchment.

"Hmm…well, that's exciting, isn't it? Oooh, Hermione's got a boyfriend…"

"Shhhh!" Hermione hissed angrily. "I _do not _have a boyfriend! It's just a note. I'm sure you've got loads anyway, give me that…"

"Not so fast. Now I'm curious. And I'm going to find out who gave you this, and _you're _going to help."

"Parvati!"

"What? Don't you want to know who wrote this?" She held up the note.

"I'm going to kill you for this…" Hermione muttered.

"Oh well. That's too bad, isn't it? Now meet me tomorrow after class behind Greenhouse Two. _I _am going to keep this, too. G'night, Hermione." Parvati walked back to her bed, staged a yawn, and turned her back to Hermione.

Hermione didn't lie down. She was still in shock. _What am I going to_ doShe thought, panicked. If she refused to go along with Parvati's plan, the other girl would doubtless tell all of her friends, probably all of Gryffindor for that matter, about the note. But she didn't want Parvati finding out whoever wrote the note, either…Hermione stood up and pulled on a sweater. She tiptoed down the stairs to the common room, where a fire still burned in the corner.

Sinking into an armchair, she reviewed her options again. Helping Parvati—that would mean she would find out who had written the note. And only minutes ago, wasn't she longing to find out her secret admirer? She was seventeen. She could make her own decisions. What did she care if Parvati knew who had fallen in love with her?

The only problem was that she _did _care.

She spent the rest of the night mulling over the tangled knot of affairs.

In the morning, Hermione had reached a decision.


	2. Beginning the Search

THE AUTHOR SPEAKS: okaay...This story is my first fanfic that might actually be longer than one mini-chapter. It's random fluff. Rather awful writing. Deal with it. Also, I am not revealing the pairing until the end because I _like _being evil.

btw, all characters etc. belong to J.K. Rowling. Blah blah blah. I just make them really OOC.

**Chapter Two**

Hermione shouldered her bookbag and glanced nervously at the castle, the wind whipping her tangled brown hair into her face. _Should have plaited it this morning, _she thought with a grimace. _The wind will do terrible things to it. _She suddenly realized the words that had just formed in her mind. Since when did she worry about what state her hair was in? _It's not as if you can do anything with that mess except pour cauldrons of Sleekeasy's on it_, she thought angrily as she neared the greenhouses. _And whose fault is that? No one's. Blame your mother for having curly hair. You never brush it anyway._

Parvati was waiting for her behind Greenhouse Two. "Well, look who showed up! Are you ready to start a little detective work?" She smirked.

"Oh, wipe that silly smile off your face, Parvati," Hermione snapped. "I'm only doing this because you'll blab otherwise. Curiosity killed the cat." She muttered this last under her breath.

"Somebody's grumpy. What's wrong with you, Hermione? Don't you care who wrote you a love-letter?"

"It wasn't a love-letter. It was a note. And I'm not grumpy. I'm…just…" Hermione trailed off, looking at the empty grey sky. _Sad, _she thought. _Because even though I'm a perfectly intelligent, rational girl, I have this irrational need. Because sometimes I just want to be a giggling teenager with my girlfriends. Because sometimes I wish my best friends weren't boys who don't know a thing about makeup and crushes and what to do with bushy hair._

"No, really. You look depressed." Parvati said quietly.

"Hah. You're pretty observant." Hermione sank down to the ground. "I don't really know. It's just…I'm leaving Hogwarts in a few months, and I want to be a schoolgirl longer. Or something. Or maybe…I feel like I missed something, these seven years. I feel like there was a whole part of the instructions that no one gave me. About how to be a silly girly girl and stuff."

"Sometimes I feel like that too." Parvati sat beside her. She was a sentimental girl and though mischievous, could turn compassionate in a minute. "Like I forgot the whole part about how we're supposed to learning something. Schoolwork and all that. I was only ever good at Divination, really. And flirting with boys. Still am. Which reminds me…" She stood up and stretched. "Enough chatting. We have a secret admirer to search for." She reached down and held out a hand to Hermione, who still sat dazedly on the hard, damp ground. "You with me? Because I still have blackmail material." She grinned as Hermione clasped her hand and pulled herself to her feet. "C'mon."

That evening the fire in the deserted common room cast licking shadows on the walls as two girls entered stealthily through the portrait hole. The clock chimed eleven o'clock. Hermione collapsed into an armchair as Parvati perched on its arm, unfolding a piece of parchment—the note.

Hermione sighed. "We still have no clue after hours of asking around. Even people from other houses. And you don't need to look at the note; there isn't anything else on it. I looked."

However, Parvati was still engrossed in the scrap of paper. She squinted at the words written there as if some hidden clue would magically reveal itself if she looked at it hard enough.

"What about the handwriting? Have we looked at the handwriting yet?" Hermione mentioned, a little disturbed by Parvati's fervor.

"I don't know _any _boys who write this tidily. Maybe they got someone to write it for them." She never took her eyes from the little Valentine.

"_Why _are we even bothering?!" Hermione wailed, exasperated. "We're never going to find out. I bet whoever wrote it's laughing at us right now. It was probably a joke from the beginning!"

Parvati snapped, "Don't say that! It's _not_ a joke." She looked fiercely at Hermione. "Don't give up. We are going to find whoever wrote this if it takes the rest of our lives."

"You're crazy." Hermione stared at the other girl. "Parvati? Are you all right?"

"I'm fine. Now let's go to bed. I'm too tired to think straight."

"I'll say," Hermione murmured as she followed Parvati up the spiral staircase to the dormitory that seemed the best place on earth to two tired seventeen-year-old girls.

To be continued…!


	3. Who Wrote It and Epilogue

the author speaks: And the final installment. This may be a bit surprising for some of you, but, well, it's what I had in mind from the very beginning. :) Hope you like it.

Love Note

**Chapter Three **

"Parvati?" Hermione rolls over and dislodges a pile of scribbled notes, on which things like _Harry? Not like him, _or _Seamus unlikely, going out w/ Lavender_ are written.

"Mmmhmmm?"

"Are you awake?"

"No."

It is past midnight. They had engaged in some evening discussion in the common room (it _is _Saturday, after all) and twenty minutes had turned into an hour, one hour into three. Now Hermione blearily shoves away her mug of Butterbeer and smoothes her hair in a vain attempt at tidiness.

Parvati is stretched across an armchair, her long legs draped luxuriously over its arms. Her dusky skin is given a bronze glow by the dying firelight, and her pomegranate lips form an open rose. Mascara smudges mark just below her right eye and one curl slowly spirals out of its pin. Hermione can't look away.

"Parvati."

She opens her eyes and Hermione is falling into them, while all her world and every star in the sky shatters into tiny glass pieces.

"You know who wrote me the note." Slowly, Parvati nods, a Mona Lisa smile curving her lips.

Parvati says, deliciously, "But you do too. You know."

And Hermione is really falling this time, physically falling, and now she shares Parvati's warmth, and she lets her mouth trace Parvati's delicate collarbone.

"I didn't think you'd ever notice me. I wanted you to notice me. So I got your attention," says Parvati. Hermione feels cinnamon flames licking up her body. Parvati smells like lemon and stardust and fire.

"You have my attention, you have it, you have everything. You have me." Hermione buries herself in her black hair.

Parvati kisses her, slow and warm and burning. "I have you? No, you have me."

And Hermione is surprised to realize that she does.

**Epilogue**

It ends with a note.

When Parvati reaches for her pumpkin juice Tuesday morning, something flutters past her line of vision like a parchment dove. She catches it, and opens it, and reads right there at breakfast:

_Dearest Parvati—_

_I don't really have to tell you this, do I?_

_I love you._

_--Hermione _

Across the table, Hermione blows her a kiss.


End file.
